Monster Munching

A blog about dining, cooking, and eating in and around Orange County, California.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Miyako - Irvine

I don't remember how much I paid for this to-go box of sushi at Irvine's Miyako, but at the time I was ordering it, I thought it was too much. It might have something to do with the fact that the cashier and I had a miscommunication on whether it included a miso soup like the other lunch specials. I thought she said yes, but she still charged me for the soup. By the time she rang me up, I was too hungry to protest.

Just give me whatever, I thought. Here. Money.

But then as I stood there waiting for my order to be made, the lady who actually assembled my sushi lunch winked at me and then started to pile on more fish than I thought I was paying for. There was an extra slice of salmon sashimi here, more tuna there, even an extra piece or two of California roll. By the time she closed the foam box and packed it up, I had what I gathered was 20% extra food than what I was entitled to.

I thanked her, took it home, and realized not only was it actually a bargain, it tasted great, too--more fresh, more flavorful, and more carefully made than an office park lunch sushi joint like this usually produces.

But then Miyako has changed in the past year or so. It used to be the kind of quick-service joint heavy on the teriyaki. Now, they've remodeled it and put more of a focus on the sushi. Next time, I think I might even try saying "Omakase!" at the sushi bar, which is kind of like telling them:

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

The Original Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce Popcorn

Have you just about had it with all these Sriracha sauce-inspired products? Most of it is ridiculous. Sriracha beer? I bet it tastes like what it is: a gimmick.

Besides that, most of these products don't have much of in the flavor of the Huy Fong brand hot sauce that started it all. For the record: that Lay's potato chip flavor was let down, and even though I adore Jack In The Box, I'm avoiding their Sriracha burger at all costs. I figure it can't be better than what I do with their already heavenly two-for-99-cents tacos, which is cover it in Huy Fong's sauce when I get them home.

But then I found this at the market formerly known as Marukai. Notice that it has all the markings of an actual Huy Fong branded product. And when I looked at the ingredients, actual Huy Fong Foods Sriracha is listed after the popcorn and the sunflower oil used to pop it.

And after tasting it, let me tell you: this is only the Sriracha derivative product the world needs. It's really spicy. I mean, scorching. And it has the same zing, that garlicky tang, that secret-recipe signature flavor that only Huy Fong has and other imitators just can't copy...and man, there a lot of imitators out there!

Friday, March 13, 2015

Fatburger - Victorville

Fatburger, the burger chain I prefer over In-N-Out, is an endangered species in Orange County. A few months ago, the Aliso Viejo branch shuttered. Before that the one in Fashion Island's food court became a Five Guys. The two that were in Irvine closed a long time before, as did the one in Brea. Only one Fatburger remains in OC: Buena Park, near Knott's.

I can't tell you what happened with this once-thriving chain--why it dwindled down to nothing here. What I can tell you is that whenever I pass one, I stop in. And this is exactly what I did when we saw the sign as we drove through Victorville on our way back from Vegas.

What I discovered is that the Victorville Fatburger isn't just a Fatburger, but a Fatburger with a full bar attached to it. Added to that, it's probably one of the best-looking, cleanest, and best-managed Fatburgers I've encountered yet.

Just look at the way they arranged the homemade onion rings in a neat horizontal stack. Most important of all: The burger was just as good as it always is. I added a fried egg, of course, as I always do, but the patty had real girth, so that you could taste the beef, the charred crusty edges, and how it all stood up against the pickles, relish, onions, mustard--you know--the works.

As I ate the burger I was reminded of its now too prophetic motto: "The Last Great Hamburger Stand."

Monday, March 09, 2015

The Magic Castle - Los Angeles

Oh how I wish I could show you all the wonders that I saw inside the building you see above: the lavish champagne brunch buffet, Irma the Ghost playing the piano, and of course, all the dazzling magicians performing illusions that boggle the mind.

At one time, The Magic Castle was one of those experiences that was, to me, as elusive as Disneyland's Club 33: you had to know somebody. But luckily, unlike Club 33, I had an in. I knew a guy who knew a guy. Well, sort of. I knew a guy who knew another guy who had this website where you can buy a whole bunch of magic crap, and when a certain threshold is reached, the site sends you an invite good for 8 guests as a sort of thank you gift.

I wish I could tell you that that website still does it, or that it even exists anymore. Like an elephant in a David Copperfield special, that business went poof a few months ago. This means that the last invite I was able to secure would be my last.

So when we went last Saturday (my third time, but my first brunch there), I relished every minute of the experience. Until I find a new way to get another invite, this would be the last time I'd be able to roam the halls of this old house, or marvel at the miniature prototype of the Haunted Mansion's ghost ballroom (yes, Walt Disney bought the idea from a Magic Castle member). And it would be the last time I eat in that Victorian dining room.

Brunch at The Magic Castle was a fabulous spread. There was endless Hawaiian poke served with wonton chips, perfectly cooked prime rib carved hot with all the trimmings, shrimp cocktail, omelets, fresh lox and bagel, and flutes of endless mimosas.

You should've seen our table.

At the end of our meal, we built up a tall pile of spent crab legs shells. We demolished an Alaskan crab troller's worth of those spindly crustacean limbs, which were especially easy to eat as they were already split in half lengthwise as all crab legs should. I wish I could show you a picture of how much of it we ate, or the other culinary delights they took the care to prepare, or even a hint of the magic we saw. There was the floating table, the stuff in the close-up parlor, Irma the ghost pianist playing Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice" and then Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" by request. I can't show any of it on this blog because no photos, not even selfies, are allowed inside.

It's just as well though. The Magic Castle is like magic itself; the more mysterious, the better.

And if anyone knows a guy who knows a guy who can get me another invite there or to Club 33 in the future, let me know!

Sunday, March 01, 2015

Cookie Connection - Irvine

This is not a story so much about these cookies, but about who I got it from: my dental hygienist.

Yes, the medical professional whose job it is to clean my teeth and remind me to floss and brush regularly, gave me cookies--a whole box of sweet, sticky, chocolate-containing cookies from Cookie Connection.

But before you make any wise cracks about how she did it to ensure her dental office continues to get my business--you are right: they will. But not in the way that you think. Her thoughtful gesture not only guarantees my loyalty to this dental office, but warms my heart.

Our dental hygienist was one of those recipients and now she was returning the favor!

And because I happened to be the first out of the two of us to have a dental appointment after the holidays, she gave me the cookies to bring home...which goes back to my earlier point: good karma pays back with dividends. In this case, it was in the form of delicious chewy cookies.

There were many in the box, including a dense, powdered sugar-dusted brownie that tasted like, well, a really good brownie. But my favorite has to be the s'mores cookie wherein not only the marshmallows and chocolate chunks have been embedded into the cookie dough as though jewels on a crown, but also, a whole graham cracker. It was fused into the bottom like Quato from Total Recall.

I shared the cookies with my better half, who was also grateful for the gift. And just in case my hygienist is reading this, I promptly brushed my teeth and flossed afterward.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Popcorn Chicken Noodle Soup at Guppy House - Irvine

It was 1 a.m. when we'd ambled in through our front door with our luggage. It had been a long day of traveling that included a harrowing ordeal with near-missed flights and a shuttle van that made us wait on the curb for over an hour after our flight arrived at LAX.

Not having consumed more than Pop Chips and Coke the whole day, we were starving. She was craving Tapioca Express' Crispy Chicken while I wanted noodles in soup. But earlier that night, as we waited on that arrivals terminal sidewalk cold and with stomachs growling, we realized our options for food were dwindling fast. It was close to midnight and the Tapioca Express we usually go to has long since closed. Honda-Ya for ramen would've been a possibility. They close at 1 a.m. But our negligent airport van company took that off the table since we were still on the road at 12:30 a.m. after finally picking us up fifteen minutes earlier.

There was hope. There was Guppy House. It was still open when we got home at last and managed to drive over without passing out. Yet it wasn't just open; it was still hopping with thump-thumpy music and customers in their twenties who would presumably go off doing something else after they ate their meal and the restaurant closed at 2.

We ordered the dish which seemed to be there just for us: the popcorn chicken noodle. An enormous bowl of fried chicken chunks dusted with spice for her; a big steaming bowl of noodles in soup for me. It was the kind of food I probably wouldn't think twice about under normal circumstances, but it was exactly what we needed at the moment we needed it. We Hoovered the noodles and gulped the salty broth as though it were the manna from heaven. In between sips, I marveled how good it was. How the al dente, snow-white strands danced in the green-onion and fat globule-flecked soup. How its steamy vapors warmed my face as I hunched over the bowl and slurped, slurped, slurped.

While we shoved those chicken pieces into our mouths as if they were actual movie theater popcorn, we said to ourselves: "Home sweet home...and let's not use that shuttle company again."

Friday, February 13, 2015

Sprinkles - Newport Beach

There was a time when we'd scoff at the kind of people who'd post nothing but pet pictures on their Facebook page. Or buy special pet treats that cost more than it costs to buy real food.

Pets aren't people, we'd huff. Where we come from, we fed our dogs and cats dinner-table scraps. It was unfathomable to go to the supermarket and pay hard-earned money for kibble, let alone a specialty dog bakery, which could only exist in the one-percent part of the first-world.

But that was before we puppy sat my sister's yorkie, a loveable furball who won over our hearts and then, our wallets.

Now we've been to Sprinkles, an expensive cupcake place we wouldn't normally go for even ourselves. We went to buy the pooch a pupcake (yes, a cupcake for dogs) that's made with no sugar and yogurt icing for her 7th birthday. It even has a bone stenciled on the top.

And, yes, our Facebook page is now also plastered with dog pictures. One of the latest is her devouring the cupcake while wearing a festive party hat and a pink princess tutu.

Wednesday, February 04, 2015

Bulgogi Bowl at Bulgogi House - La Palma

If you keep up with my reviews on OC Weekly, you'll know that the last restaurant I wrote about was Bulgogi House, an AYCE Korean BBQ palace in La Palma. In summary, I said that Bulgogi House is, without question, one of the grandest restaurants of its kind. You don't walk out; you crawl out, with your arms clutched around your sides and the feeling that your stomach is about to explode.

But as you curse the heavens for your lack of self-control, you also pat yourself on the back on how you managed to eat more meat in one sitting than most people see in a month.

But in the last paragraph of my review, I mentioned that the bar offers a bulgogi bowl for $8. Yes, it's massive, with a fried egg, mushrooms, onions, and the pile of the sweet, sugary strips of lean marinated bulgogi weighing in at about a pound and a half; but it's an even better deal for another reason. After I ordered it, I was invited by the server to go and help myself to as many side dishes from the buffet as I wanted.

I was kind of dumbfounded at the offer. Did he mean just the panchan? Or did I have carte blanche on everything the buffet offered, including the deep fried mandoos and the chicken wings? To be sure, I got a little of everything.

That afternoon, I made out like a bandit and ate like fiend. I consumed way too much food for what I paid (even with an extra generous tip) and waddled out there in the same state as I did when I went to do the AYCE a week earlier.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

The Asian Person's Hamburger Helper

I don't mean to generalize, but if you are Asian of any persuasion, you probably have a box of what you see above in your pantry. It is, as the title of this post suggests, the Asian person's Hamburger Helper--it turns stuff you already have in your fridge or freezer (ground pork, a bunch of scallions, and soft tofu) into a hot meal.

It's also the shortest distance from hungry to happy in 15 minutes or less. You brown the meat, add the chopped scallions, add the sauce, let it simmer a bit, then fold in the tofu cubes. You don't even need to read the directions on the box.

And of course, you should have it with some steamed rice. Actually, probably a lot of it. What you see is below is one box of tofu with about a half pound of meat, but I could polish off the entire thing all by lonesome self.

I've tried many other brands of Mabo Tofu sauce, but the House Foods version trumps them all. Heck, in my opinion, it produces a better product than most restaurant mabo tofus. You might say the same about the good ol' blue box of Kraft Mac-N-Cheese. Yes, I have that in my pantry, too, but it's like, five years old and untouched.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

MaDee Thai Kitchen - Costa Mesa

MaDee's cashier, who is probably also one of its owners, was frazzled. It was Sunday, 30-minutes before her restaurant was set to close up, but people were still streaming in as steady as a drumbeat. I was one of those people. I wanted to order something for take-out.

She says to me: "It's going to take at least thirty minutes. Is that okay? I've been telling people on the phone forty-five."

"Yes, it's fine!" I responded. "I'll wait."

Mine was a simple order: just the soft shell crab and sticky rice with mango for dessert. And so I waited. And observed. It's a tiny restaurant. Barely anything on the walls. Chairs in disarray. Two couples were there slurping on what I presume is the kha soi, their most popular dish. But like me, the rest of the customers who ambled in from the cold wanted take-out.

Half quietly left after they found out it would take upwards of a half an hour. The other half were smart enough to phone ahead.

There were three other people behind the register, working furiously in the cramped open kitchen, tossing things airward in a blazing wok, dropping battered pieces of something into a gurgling deep fryer.

At about minute 25 I see my crabs being prepared. Then all of a sudden she has my order ready. I take it home, the scent of the deep fried crustaceans causing me to drool all through the drive.

It's a simple dish: bite-sized pieces of lightly-battered and crisply-fried soft shells that I dunked in a tartly-seasoned soy sauce that's like a Thai spin on ponzu, all of eaten with the side salad.

The real revelation was the sticky rice with mango. The rice has its requisite sweetness, but also saltiness and a coconut-cream richness. I made little sushi rice balls using chopsticks, then laid a piece of mango on top as though it were nigiri and wondered as I was eating slice after slice of that not-too-tart, not-too-ripe fruit: how is it that Thai restaurants always have perfect mangos no matter what time of year it is?